


Untouched (Week Six)

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: Color [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Coming Untouched, Dom Sam, Female!Reader - Freeform, Multi, Predicament Bondage, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, Sex Toys, Sub Dean, Top Sam, dom reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7543315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and the reader show off their boy.</p><p>Prompt: I killed three birds with one stone here and filled three prompts from three different challenges. They are:<br/>“Technically it wasn’t on fire” for @one-shots-supernatural ’s SPN Hiatus Writing Challenge.<br/>Dildo for @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid ’s Toys of Summer challenge.<br/>Coming untouched for @hiddenwritingsintheworld ’s Sam’s Sixty July Kinks challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untouched (Week Six)

Dean’s arms flex, biceps bulging as he struggles to lift himself himself free.

The dildo in his ass is big- bigger than Sam- and you know it’s hitting every sensitive spot. The soft cry that falls from his lips when his arms give out and he plunges down onto his toy once more tells you that the fat head is pressing against his prostate.

He’s been strung up like this for about twenty minutes. He’s standing on two stools, a dildo on a pole buried in his ass, and his arms at forty-five degree angles to his shoulders. Every five minutes or so you and Sam move the stools further apart, spreading Dean’s legs and lowering him onto the toy. He’s just over half way down at this point.

Dean’s cock twitches, precome glistening on the tip. He’s been rock hard since the beginning, but he’s not allowed to come without permission. His skin gleams under the club lights, slick with sweat, and his stomach flutters under Sam’s hand.

“What’s your color, Pet?” Sam asks, loud enough for the onlookers and the club’s security to hear.

“Green,” Dean gasps. “Please, sir-” He cuts off with a moan when your palm connects with his ass.

“What’s the rule, Pet?” you ask.

“Only speak in response to direct questions,” he responds, eyelashes fluttering against flushed, freckled cheeks. His Adam’s apple bobs above his leather collar.

A low groan escapes him when Sam crouches to move one of the stools. You adjust the other one, once again thankful to the people who prepped the setup and made the carefully measured markings on the floor. Dean’s toes flex and fight for grip.

“Look so pretty like this,” you tell him. You trail your fingers up the straining muscles of Dean’s thigh, over his hip, and along the curve of his soft middle.

He’s trying to lift himself up in an attempt to give himself some relief, but all he’s really succeeding in is fucking himself on the dildo. Everytime he drops, the toy strikes his prostate dead on and pulls strangled moans from his throat. He drops a little harder when your fingers find his nipples and the sound he makes goes right to your pussy. You soaked through your panties around the ten minute mark.

Dean’s whole body tenses, telling you he’s fighting back his orgasm. You step back, right into Sam’s arms. The tall man slides his hands over your waist, bending to nubble at your neck. You can feel his rock hard dick against the small of your back, trapped in the confines of his dark jeans, and his heart beating through his black t-shirt. A button on his leather jacket digs into your shoulder blade. He looks hot as hell tonight and you couldn’t keep from kissing him when he first stepped onto the low stage, just to show everyone in the club that you’re partners with this sexy beast of a man.

“He’s getting close,” Sam observes, breath hot on your skin. “Think he can come untouched?”

“He’s pretty on edge, so I wouldn’t be surprised. I know how much you love that. Think he can hang on a little longer?”

“He’ll certainly do his best.”

You turn your head to capture Sam’s mouth in a fierce kiss. Dean watches with hungry eyes.

“You want some, too?” you chuckle, stepping out of Sam’s arms.

“Yes, please, Mistress,” Dean answers. There’s a tone to his voice that tells you he’s dipped into subspace. He’s not pulling on the restraints anymore, though his toes are still curling and uncurling on the stools.

You grab his chin and kiss him hard. He yields to the kiss, mouth pliant beneath yours. When you step back, Sam moves in to claim the Sub as well.

“Color?” you ask, stroking his flank.

“Green, Mistress.”

You and Sam move the stools to the last marks. Now Dean’s barely hanging on, legs trembling from the stretch.

“Are you close, Pet?” Sam inquires, big hands cupping Dean’s ass.

“Yes, Master.”

“How close?”

“If… if I fall, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself, Master.”

You exchange a quick glance with Sam. This was his idea. He gets final say in Dean’s orgasm. He nods to you from over Dean’s shoulder.

“Hold on as long as you can,” you say. “But when you fall, you have permission to cum.”

Dean nods, eyes falling closed again. “Thank you, Master. Thank you, Mistress.”

You and Sam both step back, content to watch and wait. Dean is beautiful, all strung out and desperate. The murmurs from the crowd tell you that they agree.

You’re not sure how long exactly Dean lasts, but you know the moment he starts losing the fight. One foot starts to slip, too sweaty and tired to hold on much longer. He’s going to fall at any moment.

His expression when he finally falls is one of defeat and pure bliss. He comes hard, long streaks of white shooting across the floor, and the sound he makes is a mix between a scream and a groan.

Dean goes limp, cock twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm. You and Sam immediately step in, moving the stools so he can stand on them and take the pressure off his shoulders. Sam unties him, and then helps you ease the dildo out of him.

“You did so good,” you murmur. “Such a good boy for us. I’m so proud of you. You were amazing.”

Sam is whispering similar things on Dean’s other side. The sub staggers along between you, eyes glazed and legs shaky.

A security guard directs you through the crowd, down a hall, and into an aftercare room. In it there’s a futon, a sink with washcloths and towels, a hamper for dirty linens, a mini fridge stocked with a variety of juices, and the aftercare bag you packed.

You lay Dean on the futon and Sam sits beside him. The sub wriggles around to pillow his head on Sam’s thigh.

You grab a washcloth from the basket by the sink and wet it with warm water. You use this to wipe Dean down, keeping your touch light on his soft cock and puffy hole.

“How’re you feeling?” Sam asks, petting Dean’s hair.

“Good,” Dean murmurs.

You grab a juice from the fridge, crack it open, and hold it to Dean’s lips. He takes slow sips, one hand coming up to touch your cheek. Your turn your head and press a soft kiss to his palm.

“Do you want to go home?” you inquire.

“Please,” is the response.

You grab Dean’s robe and shoes from the bag. Once he’s covered, Sam slings the bag over his shoulder and leads him out of the room. You drop a twenty on counter by the sink and follow.

Dean is quiet  the whole way home. He sits in the backseat of the Impala with you, head resting on your shoulder. You keep up a steady stream of praise, doing your best to ease him off the endorphin high.

Sam has to carry Dean up to the penthouse because he’s pretty much asleep. You go ahead of them, holding doors.

“He’s going to be really sore tomorrow,” Sam says, laying Dean on the bed.

“I’m sore now,” Dean says, eyes flickering open. “Haven’t been this sore since that salt and burn where Sam lit his shirt on fire.”

“Technically it wasn’t on fire,” Sam says as he quickly strips off his clothes.

You chuckle, also shedding your clothes before grabbing a soothing cream to rub on Dean’s wrists. “There was smoke and a flame. Technically it was on fire.”

Sam makes a face and Dean laughs softly. Your fellow Dom rolls his eyes, helping Dean out of his collar, shoes and the robe. When you move away to wash your hands, he lays down and rearranges them so he can spoon Dean. You flick off the lights, return to the bed, and let Dean’s grabby hands pull you down.

“You were amazing tonight,” you say again, tucking your head under Dean’s chin.

“I felt amazing,” he replies.

Sam’s voice rumbles through both of you. “That was kind of the goal. Can we sleep now?”

You and Dean both laugh at his petulant tone, but you still twist so you can weave your fingers into Sam’s on Dean’s hip. You’ve got both your boys and there’s no place on Earth you’d rather be.


End file.
